


Dark thoughts in a Darker night

by GreenRogue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied Sam Winchester/Lucifer - Freeform, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lucifer Possessing Sam Winchester, Not Happy, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicide Attempt, Violence, You are not alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-27 13:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue
Summary: Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.**Complete**





	1. Penance

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently become obsessed with Supernatural (new to the fandom), but have been feeling that Sam's depression isn't touched on quite enough in the story. I bring my rendition to the struggles a lot of fellow humans suffer from. Just remember, you are never alone.
> 
> All characters and main plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

_\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_If I didn’t know you… I would wanna hunt you. And so would other hunters_

The burning in his throat grew to uncomfortable levels as he choked down the cheap bottle of whiskey. His eyes ached in the semi darkness of the damp motel room, flashes of passing headlights spotlighting across the room as he sat under the lone window in the dark. The neon red numbers of the bedside clock flashing midnight, not giving away how long he’d truly been sitting in the silence of the empty room. His fingers felt numb as it loosely held the bottle neck between his legs. His mind was blessedly blank for once, as he gulped down the rising acid from his throat.

_We should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good_

Swishing back the last of the room temperature liquid, Sam let the empty bottle fall to the carpeted floor. He blinked hazily as another strobe of headlights passed his vision. The throb in his chest fell back to a steady beat of his heart as the alcoholic haze settled his nerves. He can’t remember the last time he was this hammered, couldn’t have been since…. since the hellhounds. A wave of self-loathing and guilt threatened to crush him again as he ran his hands through his hair trying to stave off those memories. Of the bloody gore on the dining room floor, the utter despondent sight of his brother’s lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Sam couldn’t save him; couldn’t prove to Dean he wasn’t a fuck up. At the end of the day he had gotten his brother killed.

The burning in his throat returned tenfold and Sam could feel his eyes itch for release. His tears were long since dried up though, the crushing pain inside sucking his soul into a spiral of darkness that kept his emotions in a vice grip against his heart. Sam wasn’t allowed the luxury of crying, he didn’t deserve the release. He looked up through his shaggy bangs at the silver glimmer of his knife on the bed in front of him. It’s cold metal dully reflective in quiet judgement of his failings. And fail he had, his list of sins longer than he cared to recount. The skin on his wrists started to get the odd buzzing feeling he’d grown accustomed to before his atonement, almost like it was reminding him what was required. What penance he had to make for the pain and sorrow he caused his brother, caused the world. Reaching into his pocket, Sam pulled out the old palm pilot. It was cracked and scuffed on the edges, the front facing screen had been smashed at some point and no longer displayed the proper details. He ran his thumb over the voicemail button, the little envelope imprint long since worn away.

Dean had asked him once why he still had the thing, long after their new smart phones had taken over their lives. Sam had just shrugged and smiled, he knew Dean wouldn’t understand. Listening for the familiar beep, Sam closed his eyes and bit his lower lip while taking a deep breath.

_Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I’d either have to save you or kill you. Well, I’m giving you fair warning. I’m done trying to save you. You’re a monster, Sam – a vampire. You’re not you anymore, and there’s no going back_

He listened to it two or three more times, each word growing softer as his brain narrowed on the pain in his chest. With trembling fingers, he grabbed his knife from the bed, the cold weight in his hand a welcome friend. Almost speaking to him in its familiarity, _‘Yes, you know you deserve this. Penance Sam, pay your penance’._

The sharp cuts against his skin was like a dam releasing in his soul. Tears that struggled to surface fell as freely as the blood from the fresh wounds. His fingers twitched as each slow drag made its way across his wrist. Slowly he worked his way up one arm, then the other, until he was a bloody mess from elbow to wrist. The thin lines burned fiercer than the fire in his chest as large hiccup sobs escaped past his lips.

_Sam Winchester – the boy with the demon blood_

_Abomination_

_Freak_

The words he hated so much tumbled past his own lips as he flexed his hands, begging the blood to seep faster, cleanse him quicker. Vaguely he heard his phone ring from the small kitchenette table, his brothers obnoxious rock ring tone piercing to his ears. Sam wasn’t ready yet, his penance wasn’t complete, so he ignored his brother for the time being. When silence again enveloped him, Sam looked down at his bare thighs. The crisscross patterns a bright white against his normally tan skin. Blood had dripped onto his scars, and he slowly wiped them away to gaze at his reminders, his true self.

Tracing the scars gently this time, Sam dragged the knife across the first truth that was ever muttered to him. When he couldn’t have been older than 7 and his father had been particularly drunk.

“You’re no son of mine Sam, you’re just a Freak”. Allowing that memory to overcome him, Sam pushed down harder on the knife, its silver tip retracing the long ago healed scar. Recreating his first cuts with the same precision now as he had when he was a teenager.

_Freak_

Finishing his work, Sam grabbed the rock salt canister from the window sill above him and carefully poured a small amount on the cuts. He hissed at the sudden pain but felt the vice grip in his chest give ever so slightly. Licking his lips he sat for a moment, reveling in the mind clearing pain, a small weight finally starting to shift as he reaffirmed his reality. Turning back to his legs, he picked the knife back up and started on his second truth, the one that cemented his place in the natural order of the world.

_Abomination_

This scar was newer, still slicing open easily with each pass. The salt burned harsher, almost like the purity of the element was trying to wash away his sin. Though he knew that would never happen. Once the worst of the pain had faded, Sam felt clearer again, the drunken depression had settled to a steady buzz in the back of his head. The tears had long since dried as he paid his dues, and he could feel his heart beat a bit easier, his breath easing into his lung quicker. Licking his raw lips, Sam pushed himself to his knees before his phone started ringing again. Huffing in slight annoyance, he heaved himself onto wobbly legs before stumbling to the table. Pressing a bloody finger to the screen, he waited a moment for his brother to stop ranting.

“Dammit Sammy what the fuck is wrong with you? Where are you?” Sam grimaced at the rough tone and hung his head slightly in shame. He could feel his blood slowly dripping off the tips of his fingers, the sensation tickling his overly sensitive digits.

“I’m here Dean, was just sleeping. Any leads yet?” The case an almost long forgotten memory in lieu of his spiraling emotions of tonight.

“Course you were sleeping, not like we have 5 missing civilians to locate. No don’t worry about a thing I’ll take care of it.”

_Useless_

“Dean just – I’m sorry, what’s up, what can I do?” Sam wrote off a few names and locations he need to research. A tick forming in his temple as he listened to the bar noises in the background. He could imagine Dean sitting at the end of a bar, a cool beer in his hand as he eyed one of the passing bartenders. “Yeah I’ll get it done, text you what I find”. Dean didn’t bother listening and Sam found himself speaking to a dead line.

Staring at the phone for a moment, the tightness in his chest began to grow again with a vengeance and he struggled to shove it back to the dark places inside. It was too soon to go again, too soon for a second round of penance.

Grabbing the soiled knife, Sam shuffled to the bathroom to clean up his dirty secret and damaged body. One day he hoped he’d have atoned enough, one day he hoped Dean would look at him like he used to. One day he hoped he could be clean again.


	2. Dance with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.
> 
> Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently become obsessed with Supernatural (new to the fandom), but have been feeling that Sam's depression isn't touched on quite enough in the story. I bring my rendition to the struggles a lot of fellow humans suffer from. Just remember, you are never alone.
> 
> All characters and main plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

* * *

_Two days earlier…_

“Hi, I’m here to pick up a prescription, Sam Weston”. It was late, too late for any normally functioning human being to be running errands. The pharmacist behind the plexiglass looked slightly miffed as she muted the tiny TV in front of her. Grabbing the insurance card Sam offered, she grunted an excusal and disappeared behind a swinging door. Sam stood impatiently, fingers drumming on the counter. He could feel a nervous energy starting to build in his gut and just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Glancing around the small pharmacy, Sam’s gaze fell on the pile of discarded newspapers bundled near the door.

Fourth Suicide in 3 days, officials warn the public

Glancing around the store, Sam knelt and grabbed the paper while scanning the article. Four otherwise healthy individuals found dead, each in a locked room in their homes, empty bottles of pills and booze at each. No notes left, no signs of foul play. Parties to the victims baffled by the sudden changes in behavior blah blah blah. _‘Excellent’._

“That’ll be $56.30”. Startled, Sam briefly smiled at the tired employee and handed a few bills over. Tucking the newspaper under his arm, he grabbed the small nondescript bag and hustled out of the store. The energy in his chest had grown as he walked, the paper under his arm both a heavy weight and a sweet release. Grabbing the pill bottle out of the bag, he popped the lid and shook two pills into his hand without stopping his stride. The little friends felt familiar in his calloused hand and Sam could already feel the relief they would offer. Dry swallowing the pills, he stashed the rest in his inside coat pocket before reaching the parked impala. Sliding into the passenger seat he threw the paper at his dozing brother.

“I think I’ve got a case for us”. Dean blinked wearily at the front page before shrugging and tossing it back at him.

“In the morning, where’d you go anyway”? Sam frowned quickly while he shrugged his shoulders.

“Nowhere, just went and stretched my legs”. _‘And to get my saving grace’._ But he’d never admit that out loud, no his weaknesses were his own to deal with. Besides what could Dean do? Not like he could throw holy water or silver bullets at him. Nothing could cure this level of freak, god knows Jessica had tried.

“Alright well, we’ll shove off in the morning, this beauty still needs his rest”. Sam huffed at him, like expected, and slouched further in his seat his automatic response ingrained since they were kids. His eyes burned and he could feel his fingers twitching against his leg. The energy still buzzed quietly in his gut but he could feel it slowly unwinding as the night ticked by. Absently he reached into the backseat and grabbed a random book, to wired to sleep, he tried to settle his mind as he waited for the sun to rise again. Chewing on his bottom lip, Sam flipped the book open to a random page and attempted to concentrate of the words in front of him.

* * *

At some point he must have dozed off because the next thing he knew he was lying in a bed. His eyes struggled to focus on a simple white ceiling, the springs digging almost uncomfortably into his back. He could hear a distinct buzzing of a few vending machines not far off, a television was on somewhere, muffled by the thin walls. He could feel a warmth next to him, a dip in the cheap mattress, and a steady pattern of breath as it tickled his cheek.

“Ya know at some point we will have to have a talk about your living arrangements”. Sam closed his eyes with a shudder and tried to force himself awake. _‘It’s a dream, it’s just a dream’._ “Of course it’s a dream Sam, those lovely markings my brother put on you has you quite well hidden. No worries though, I will find you eventually. Or you’ll come find me”. Sam couldn’t stop himself, he turned to look at the man next to him. For all intent and purpose, he looked like a normal Joe Schmoe. A little rough around the edges, the beginnings of a scruffy beard that showed it had been days since he last cared about his appearance. Lines of stress and grief etching in his face, Sam felt a twang of pity for the man Lucifer had convinced to say yes.

“Don’t feel too sorry for him, I offered him what I offer you. He was just smarter and took me up on it.”

“Enslavement”. Sam spat out, standing quickly. The sudden need to be as far away from this torment urging his body to finally respond. Lucifer watched him go, slight disappointment coloring his features.

“No Sammy, I’m not enslaving anyone. I’m saving them”. Sam scoffed in anger and turned away from him. It was the same room as before, the one he spent a few weeks in when he left Dean, the one when he’d been truly alone again.

_Monster, Sam. You're a monster_

“You’re not a monster Sam”.

“Stay outta my head”. Sam glared at Lucifer, his hands balling into fists as he forced his anger into check. Lucifer however watched him impassively, his hands behind his head, ankles crossed on the bed. He seemed relaxed, nonplussed, at the raging man in front of him. “Why can’t you just leave me alone”? Lucifer just gave him a disappointed look.

“Why would I want to leave you alone Sam? No one deserves to be alone in the world. I may be the devil, but I’m not cruel, not really. Now Dean…” Lucifer gave him a half shrug and an almost apologetic look.

_I tried so hard to pretend we were brothers_

Sam clenched his eyes shut, willing the nasty voice back down. He turned away again and started pacing the room. _‘Wasn’t real, it was all the demon blood.’_

_You’re nothing to me_

The reminder of the harsh words brought Sam to his knees as he shoved his fists into his eyes. Dean’s angry voice colliding with his mind. _‘Not real, not real, not real’._ Vaguely he could tell he was having a slight breakdown, in front of the devil in his dream no less. Sam couldn’t deny the irony of having mental issues in a dream but he couldn’t dwell on it at the moment, the insistence pressure in his gut had grown exponentially and he could feel the air stutter in his lungs.

“Easy now Tiger, no reason to fall to pieces on me”. A cool hand rested on the nape of his neck and Sam tried to pull away. The grip tightened and Sam felt himself look up into Lucifer’s eyes. The cold calculating angel merely smiled at him, his lips thin, almost like a grimace. “So much pain, doesn’t it get tiring”? Sam just looked at him.

“Doesn’t what get tiring”?

“Taking false blame and creating guilt when none need exist”? Sam snorted, his breath slowly coming back to him and he violently shook himself out of Lucifer’s hold. Surprisingly he let go. Stumbling back to his feet, Sam ran his fingers through his hair and went back to pacing. “Sam—let me help you, why should you suffer so needlessly? This isn’t fair to yourself?”

“Fair? Fair?!” Sam whirled on him in an instant, his eyes alight with manic anger. “None of this life is fair! You have no right to judge my life, no right to anything. I told you once and I’ll tell you again, I’ll never say it, you’ll never, NEVER get what you want. Just leave me ALONE”! Sam swung, pushing all his anger and guilt behind his intention. Wildly air passed around him and his momentum threw him back onto the bed. Flipping over he glanced around the room. Lucifer was sitting in on of the cheap dining chairs grooming his nails.

“We’ll have to finish this conversation later pumpkin. Just remember, I’ll never abandon you”. Lucifer gave him a quick wink and he was gone.

* * *

When Sam opened his eyes next, the rising sun had temporarily blinded him. Raising his hand, he squinted against the brightness and glanced at the empty driver’s seat.

_‘I’ll never abandon you’._

Lucifer’s parting words burned in the back of his throat as he tried to dampen the rising bile. Throwing the discarded book back into the backseat, he glanced at his surroundings and saw Dean standing over by a coffee truck, he was smiling at the pretty blond barista behind the truck’s counter and Sam relaxed a little.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he grimaced at the gritty feeling in his eyes and the roughness in his throat. He watched as Dean chatted up the younger lady for a few more minutes before turning back to the car, two cups of coffee in tow. The easy saunter of his brother’s walk made him smile and he half waved when Dean nodded his head.

“Mornin’ Sammy, see you finally got some sleep. You were mumbling for a bit there, hot date with Jennifer Anderson”? Dean waggled his eyebrows and Sam chuckled despite himself.

“Shut up Jerk”.

“Bitch,” Dean took a quick sip of his coffee before grabbing the forgotten paper from the dash, “So—you think this is our kinda thing?” He glanced at the article and Sam waited a minute before speaking, the hot paper cup burning his hand causing Sam to grip it tighter. The dull stinging a welcome distraction after his little meet and chat with the devil.

“Sure seems like it, confusing suicides, locked doors, we could check it out and see if anything turns up”? Dean didn’t look quite convinced as he re-read the article. “At the very least it’s a destination. Someplace other than no place”. They’d been drifting ever since regrouping after Chicago. They had the rings but no real plan, at least not one Dean was willing to even negotiate on, Death be damned. His brother grunted and took another long sip from his coffee before starting the car and pulling out of the steadily busier lot.

“Well it’s something, your right, at the very least it’s a destination. Lost Springs Wyoming, here we come.

* * *

*Author’s note:

Lost Springs is a real city, I had to google it and definitely gave me a giggle, for the purpose of the story the townscape I describe with be vastly different but I wanted to point out it was real, and is now on my bucket list to visit.


	3. Half Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.
> 
> Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All main characters and plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

* * *

_Sam’s Journal- 2010_

_We’ve traveled to Lost Springs WY. Not much to the place, a bar for Dean at least. He can’t seem to be in any town without at least checking out the local party scene. It’s only been a day but I can tell he’s done. Not many details on the supernatural front, crime scenes are pretty cut and dry. No sulfur, no EMT. Dean’s ready to pass on this one, chalk it up to just a few crazies deciding on going at once. I’m not so sure but he won’t listen to me. <strike>Not that I blame him</strike>._

_Background checks reveal nothing substantial, all victims seem generally normal. Different walks of life, though all were married. Two had kids, families seemed well adjusted. None frequented the same places, no overlapping connection of any kind._

_Maybe Dean is right._

Sam set the pen down for a moment as another zappy headache blurred his vision. He’s waited too long between his doses, he knows this, but when you have a paranoid older brother hovering in the background 24/7; it made it difficult to take his meds. He glanced at his jacket on the far hook, the zappies(*) frying his thought process to shit. Sam could almost see the outline of the pill bottle, his sweet little oasis in the desert. A relief so close and yet so far away. Behind him, the small motel TV droned on. Some late night infomercial about super glue or something. Dean was on the bed in front of it, slightly reclined, arms folded, his head drooping to the side with his eyes closed. Sam watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. The lines of stress and anger melted from his face when he slept and Sam just took a moment to watch his brother sleep. It reminded him of before, before the stupid apocalypse, before demon blood and deals. Back to when the most difficult thing they had to deal with was a nasty Wendigo.

Cautiously Sam rose and swiftly but quietly, collected his jacket before dodging into the adjacent bathroom. Closing the door with a soft ‘_snick’ _he breathed slightly easier and leaned his forehead against the cool wood. The fluttering fluorescent light caused the zappy headache to return and he slightly grimaced in pain. Fumbling in his pocket with his eyes closed, Sam felt relief the moment his fingers grasped the small pill bottle. Carefully pulling it out, he eyed the little present like it was his only friend in the world. It was amazing what some simple compounds of chemicals could achieve. Depending on the hands, humanity managed to harness some of the more basic building blocks of the universe and construct little miracle pills for the truly fucked in the head sub-species.

Clenching his jaw, Sam oh so carefully popped the lid. Trying to avoid as much noise as possible, he opted to stick a finger into the bottle to fish out two pills vs shaking the little nuggets into his palm. The feel of the sticky plastic on his tongue was a godsend, and Sam dry swallowed with a sigh of relief. He just had to wait a few hours, just a couple of hours and he could have some sweet peace and quiet. Flushing the toilet to mask the sound of the bottle snapping closed, Sam waited a moment listening at the door. When he couldn’t hear anything but the insistent infomercial, he cracked the door open an inch and tried to see if he could see Dean on the bed. _‘Shit’._

The bed was empty, instead, Sam could see him leaning against the counter in the kitchenette. He had cracked open another beer, his eyes staring of into space towards the carpet. He sipped at the beer absently and for the moment, he didn’t seem to notice Sam staring at him from the bathroom. Sam licked his lips nervously and looked around the tiny bathroom, he had to stash his jacket. Spying an open laundry bag, he stuff the jacket quickly and as quietly as he could.

“Sammy”? Dean’s voice startled him and he winced as another zap headache shot across his eyes.

“Ye-yeah, just give me a sec”. Flushing the toilet again, Sam caught his reflection in the mirror and noticed his bloodshot eyes and red splotchy skin. ‘_Perfect’. _He opened the door all the way and shuffled out into the shared room, only half faking a grimace of a headache. “What’s up Dean”?

Sam tried not to look his brother in the eye, somehow Dean always knew when he was hiding something. He’d put on that, disappointed big brother face, that was scarily too similar to Dad’s, and he knew in this state he couldn’t fight against it. Against the pulsing guilt that would roll in his stomach every time Dean would look at him that way.

“What’s a matter Sammy, what’s wrong”? Dean made to go for him but Sam waved him off before sitting on the other twin bed.

“Just a headache man, nothing to worry about”.

“You sure”? Sam prickled a little at his brother’s tone.

“Yeah I’m sure, why wouldn’t I be sure about a headache dude?” Sam could practically feel the shrug and irritated lip wetting. His brother’s only tell when he was uncomfortable with something he was about to say.

“Well, you know, it’s not like—it’s not the demon blo—“ Sam raised his hand to stop him, sudden anger and sadness fighting to gain control which did nothing for his head which was truly starting to ache.

“Don’t—don’t even finish that sentence”. He shook his head minutely, keeping his eyes closed. He didn’t have the energy for this. Sam could practically feel the cold posture change from his brother.

_Freak._

_Abomination._

_Monster._

“So sorry princess, didn’t mean to get your panties in a twist. Just needed to ask”. Dean stomped past his bed and went to the front door while grabbing his jacket. Sam squinted at his back as he shrugged it on.

“Where are you going”? Dean didn’t even glance back, just gave a curt “Out” and was gone.

‘_Way to go Sam Winchester, you did it again. Can’t talk for more than 5 minutes before you’ve pissed your brother off again. Nice one genius.’ _Sam groaned quietly before rolling onto his side and pushing himself off of the bed. _‘All you ever do is make him angry, you’re fucking useless you know that right? You’ve been a liability to him ever since he was forced to drag you from Stanford after Jessica died. Now he’s stuck with you again because you’re too weak to take care of yourself. You’re still taking these pills dumbass, still using a crutch instead of manning up and dealing with your feelings like a normal human being.’_

Sam tried to block out the truthful ring behind the poisonous words. A churning gut rot settled low in his abdomen and he tried to breathe through the sudden painful tremors that spread through his body. Swaying slightly, Sam grabbed the forgotten beer bottle and slammed the lukewarm liquid.

_‘Oh yeah that’s smart, dumbass, alcohol with your pills. Didn’t the doc say that was a giant no-no?’_

Sam ran his hands over his face, trying to push down the venom that threatened to spill over. Grabbing his jacket from the bathroom he rehung it back up, his dirty secret still kept. Glancing at his closed journal, Sam debated doing some more research before sighing in defeat. He was as lost on this one as he could get and the minimal work he could do right now would make no difference. Turning the TV off, the room fell into a quazi-darkness. A passing car’s headlights strobed across the room as he collapsed into the far bed. Tomorrow he’d be normal again, tomorrow he could take the words and ignore the suddenly itchy feeling on his thighs. Tomorrow he’d be stronger.

* * *

“So now people are missing”? Dean sat across from him at the small kitchenette table. A greasy breakfast sandwich sitting in front of him as he sipped his coffee. Sam smacked his lips before nodding, turning his laptop to face his brother. The news article front and center from this morning.

“Yeah and here’s the best part, they were all related in some way to the recently deceased”. Dean’s eyebrows raised as he read the article. Slowly chewing his breakfast before he spoke.

“Alright, you got me. This just became interesting. How can 5 people vanish in one night?” Sam shrugged, taking back his computer.

“Don’t know, the police records don’t have much at the moment. Looks like their current running theory is just—overwhelmed by grief they just, left”. Licking his fingers Dean grunted and shook his head.

“Well, I’ll go to the cops, see if FBI agent Willis can get some more details.”

“Great I’ll go with you”. Sam started to say, but hesitated, a flash of irritation in Dean’s eyes stalling his movements.

“Actually I’ll just do this one alone, stay here and—I don’t know, do something else”. Sam felt something start to stir in his chest and he fought to keep the hurt from his voice.

“Dean—“. His brother waved a hand at him dismissingly as he gather his suit and tie.

“Ya know Sam, you’ve really been off your game since Pestilence. I can’t waste energy watching after you while working this case. Just be my man at the computer and phone in if you find anything”. Sam tried to scoff, tried to block out the rushing noise in his ears.

“Dean—don’t be ridiculous, we still don’t know what it is we’re hunting. It could be dangerous”. Dean straightened his jacket and refused to look at Sam, muttering under his breath. “What’d you say”?

“I said no more dangerous than you”. There it was again, that harsh cold stare that made Sam feel smaller than the dirt on his brother’s boots. He leaned back in his chair and felt his knee start to bounce with pent up energy. His eyes burned and his throat closed against his will. Running his tongue over his teeth he lowered his head and tried to shake the dark cloud feeling that was gathering above his head.

“It wasn’t my fault Dean, Cas told you, Pestilence—“

“Wouldn’t have affected you if you hadn’t drank blood in the first place.” Dean pointed a harsh finger at him and Sam flinched slightly at the movement, “that’s on you Sam, that will always be on you”. If Dean saw the sudden reddening of his brother’s eyes, he chose to ignore it. “I need you here, I need you someplace where you can do minimal damage until I get back.”

_Monster_

_Abomination_

Choking in his throat, Sam merely nodded at Dean’s retreating figure. Unconsciously Sam scratched at the skin under his watch. An old familiar buzzing just below the surface. He sat for a moment stewing before anger won out and he shut his laptop with a flick of his wrist. If Dean wanted to be a dick, that was on him. He was still a hunter, still able to save people while there was time.

Slinging on his jacket, Sam glanced at his bag for a moment, contemplating. A whisper in the back of his mind caused hesitation in his movements. _‘Pay your penance’._ Grinding his teeth together, Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Forcing his feet to move, he opened the motel door and quickly shut it behind him never looking back.

* * *

“So you’ve lived next to the Millers for how long?” Sam smiled slightly at the older woman on the porch, his pen poised over the small notepad. He’d canvassed two of the five properties so far. No one was able to offer much detail other than what he already knew.

“Oh—about 3 years now. I remember when they moved in together. Newlyweds”. The woman smiled at him coyly as she fussed with the cardigan she was wearing. “Adorable couple really, nasty business this past few weeks”. He nodded his head in sympathy.

“So they appeared happy then, did they have any abnormal activity before Mr. Miller committed suicide”. The woman appeared to think for a moment before glancing around speculatively.

“There were rumors you know, not that I believed a word of it mind you, but small towns—you know how they talk”.

“What kind of rumors Mrs. Grafton?”

“Oh Miss, please.” Sam smiled indulgently, Sam felt himself warming slightly in embarrassment under the collar at her attempt at flirtation. “Well, people were talking that Adam, Mr. Miller, was starting to stray; if you get my drift”. Sam appeared thoughtful for a moment before closing his notepad.

“You’ve been very helpful Ms. Grafton, thank you for your time”. She waved at him disappointedly as he walked away. Grabbing his phone he checked for messages and saw one text from Dean.

** _Bupkis, at bar, don’t wait up_ **

Sam shook his head, the anger that had simmered flared back to life for a moment. Dropping his phone in the passenger seat of his stolen corolla, Sam tried to ignore the growing itch on his skin. He felt like a thousand ants were crawling on him and he tried cracking his neck to relieve some of the tension. ‘_One more, then I need to get back to the motel.’_ Pulling out onto the only main road of the town, Sam made his way towards the next stop on his list. His zappy headaches long gone but his brain felt fuzzy, like they’d been fried one too many times. Debating if he really should just go back to the motel room, he stopped at the one light intersection rubbing at his eyes for a minute.

A familiar laugh made him look up and he watched as Dean escorted a, very leggy, brunette woman to the Impala. Sam studied his brother for a moment, the smile that graced his brother’s face was wide and bright and Sam felt a small pang in his chest. The woman’s giggle filtered past the white noise in his ears and something cracked in his chest. He grabbed his phone from the seat and typed a quick reply.

** _I think I got something, can you come back so we can regroup?_ **

He watched as Dean felt the message, watched as his brother checked his phone; and let out a painful breath as he just put his phone back in his pocket without responding. His face clouded slightly before getting into the car. Gripping the steering wheel tightly he sped off as soon as the light turned green, the wheels spinning slightly on the old road.

_You’re nothing to me_

The burning in his chest flooded his body and caused his hands to shake. Regardless of his tight grip. Pulling over on the next side street, Sam slammed the car into park and stormed out of the car. He needed to get away, he needed a minute to just— ‘_to just what Sammy? Where are ya gonna go? You’ve truly got no one now, you killed Dad, you killed Jess, Dean has written you off as the no good two-bit junkie you are’._

“Shut up,” Sam whispered to the wind, “just shut up”. He scratched again at the skin under his watch, the tingling becoming an increasing burning feeling as he tried to shut down the thoughts in his head. ‘_Cognitive therapy Sam,’ _His therapist once told him, ‘_Would you say these things to other people? Would you say them to Dean’?_ Sam tried to breathe deeply, holding it for a beat and releasing it in a huff. He stood on the corner for a moment, feeling well and truly lost. He looked back towards the bar, Impala and his brother already a nonexistent dot in the distance. Sam tried not to let the pain get to him, physically shaking his head, he turned and started walking aimlessly down one of the side roads. Small mom and pop shops were on either side, garish window displays showing handmade crafts or consignments. Stopping to admire a particularly garish painting of kittens, Sam startled slightly when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you, but I seem to be a bit lost”. The woman was short, barely reached his chin, and her long purple hair as tied back tightly into a French braid. He stared at her a moment, his hunters instinct bristling at her image. Squashing it down, Sam swallowed heavily.

“Yeah sure, how can I help you”? The woman smiled in relief and Sam could see her shoulders sag a little as the tension released.

“Thank you! I have been wandering around this town for ages looking for this bar, Rock Quarrel or something?”

“Quarry, Rock Quarry, and you’re actually not far off—“Sam attempted to squash the sudden images of his brother, “—just up this road, turn left and you’ll see it. I think it’s the biggest building in this town.” Her smile brightened and Sam couldn’t help but feel his own smile come easier at her reaction.

“Thanks so much, you have been a real life saver! My names Victoria—“She extended her slender hand towards him and Sam felt his social awkwardness kick in ‘_perpetually a fifteen year old boy aren’t ya idiot’._

“Sam, nice to meet you”. His fingers tingled after he released her hand and he had to rub the pads of his fingers together to get rid of the sensation. “Ya know, I could walk you if you like, make sure you don’t get lost again”. If it was possible, her smile got even brighter as she nodded her head. Swinging into a comfortable stride, Sam turned and escorted her back towards the place he was trying to escape. Victoria babbled for a few minutes about the town, said she was just passing through but was told this bar had the best nachos in the state and she had to stop and try ‘em.

“What about you Sam? You don’t really seem like a local here”. He huffed a laugh and shook his head a little. ‘_Oh if only you knew’._

“Yeah no, my uh, my partner and I are just passing through. We travel a lot, part of the business”.

“Partner huh? Is that why you look so down? Lovers quarrel”? He startled at her question and stopped walking. She stopped immediately next to him, an apologetic look on her face. “Oh no, I’m sorry, Jesus I didn’t mean to pry. I just, I saw you walking down the street and you looked so sad. Man Sam, please forget I said anything, it is none of my business at all.” She took a step back waving her hands in front of her, clearly embarrassed and Sam felt immediately guilty for the way he reacted.

“No-no you’re fine, sorry just uh—yeah we had a fight, this morning actually and it’s still a little raw to think about”. She gave him a knowing apologetic look and Sam had to look away first. As they started walking again Sam started chewing on his lip.

“I am sorry Sam, I didn’t mean to pry. But ya know, if you--- yeah uh--- if you wanted to maybe split a plate of nachos with me—I’m a good listener”. Out of the corner of his eye he could see just how hesitant she was to ask, her hands fidgeting in front of her. He couldn’t help himself, he found her quite cute.

“Well I don’t know if you really want to listen to a stranger’s home life, but I’d be happy to take you up on that nacho offer.” She smiled again and linked her arm through his.

“Well then Sam the man, let’s do this.”

* * *

(*): Zap headaches, or Zappies is a known side affect that can occur if you cold turkey (or withdraw too quickly) antidepressant medications. The feeling is literally like getting a constant or semi constant zap feeling in your brain (think static shock on the inside). This type of side affect can last anywhere from a few days to permanently depending on the medication and dosage.

Victoria: Is an original character and is not based on any real life person.


	4. Cracks starting to show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.
> 
> Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters and main plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.
> 
> I might have one more update before the weekend is out, then nothing until next weekend unless I get free time. thank you for the comments/kudos you lovelies have already provided, you're very kind.

* * *

After about three hours and four beers, Sam finally felt his old smile returning. From the moment they sat Victoria chattered his ears off, talking about anything from nonsense topics like what time of day is best to plant flower seeds (in the evening she adamantly advised); to her travelling book she was concocting.

“The great U.S of A’s smallest cities. A book for the little guys. Ya know, small towns get such bad raps, or ignored completely. I mean, if it weren’t for small towns every city was just be surrounded by, I don’t know, desert or something.” Sam laughed and took another swig of his beer.

“I know what you mean, without these little treasurers my partner and I would be out of the business.” Her eyes sparkled a little but she steadfastly kept her mouth shut. The alcohol felt good in his system, a warm fuzzy feeling was in his stomach and he found his smiles coming easier and easier. “Victoria, what made you want to travel? I mean, when did you start?” She shrugged and fiddled with the label on her own bottle, suddenly very shy.

“You’re gonna think it’s weird”. Sam leaned forward and raised his eyebrows.

“Trust me. I’m not.” She debated for a moment, staring into his eyes before giving him a sad smile.

“I just—I didn’t really have the best family growing up. I was an only child but my parents were always away. They were professors at Yale, big shots in the science community, and they were always travelling to give lectures. I spent most of my time either at home with my nanny, or at boarding school.” She stopped to take a sip of her beer, Sam could see the loneliness in that, his own childhood experiences echoing in her words. “About a year ago I was supposed to go to college, Yale naturally, but as I was packing I started thinking to myself; is this really what my destiny is supposed to be?” She looked up into his eyes and Sam felt himself take a gulp at their intensity. “I made an impulse decision then and there, I did not want to be like them-- I wanted to live. So I grabbed the only bag I packed and left.” She shrugged immediately and slammed back the rest of her beer. “Want another?” Sam smiled and nodded as she jumped down from the bar stool.

He stared at the dirty table for a few minutes. Victoria’s vibrancy and assurance reminded him of that not so long ago night when he decided to change his destiny, when he wanted something different then the family’s expectations.

_If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back!_

A cold beer slid into his hand and Sam raised a smile at Victoria.

“You okay there Sam the man? Looked a little lost in your seat”. Sam took a big chug, ignoring the burning in his throat.

“Ya know, the funny thing about family, you can try all you want to do what they ask but somehow you’ll always end up disappointing them.” Sam couldn’t help the bitterness from entering his voice, thinking about the ticking time bomb of a brother back at the motel.

“Whoa there, deep stuff cowboy. What’s got you so bitter”? Sam just shook his head and took another swallow.

“Let’s just say I know what you’re going through.” Sam let his eyes travel the bar across the other patrons. Each of them laughing and smiling, he wished Dean was here, he wished for a lot of things. A warm hand startled his musing and he turned to look back at Victoria. Her eyes wide with concern and understanding.

“The funny thing about disappointment Sam, it’s only yours that kills you.” Sam’s skin tingled under her touch. He felt lost for a moment staring into her eyes and oh how badly he wanted to spill his guts.

_Dad said I’d have to kill you Sammy_

_You’re no better than the filthy things you hunt_

Sam yanked his arm away and tried not to see the flash of hurt on Victoria’s face. Glancing at his watch, Sam groaned and chugged back the last of his beer.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry about this. I gotta go—“Victoria nodded in understanding and shooed him away.

“No, no I get it. Go, your partner is probably worried sick about you. But hey Sam listen,” She waited until he was staring into her eyes again, “I know destiny is a strong word to use in normal society but do you wanna know a secret?” She leaned towards him and Sam felt himself automatically doing the same thing until he could feel her breath on his cheek. “You can’t map the destination, if you don’t know the road travelled”. She gave him a soft peck on the cheek and a slight shove towards the door. Sam half smiled at her, a slightly dreamy expression on his face and turned to leave.

“Good luck Victoria, I’m sure your book is going to be great.” She waved after him fondly while sipping her beer.

“Good luck to you to Sam”. His form disappearing in the crowd and out the doors, “You Winchesters are gonna need it”.

* * *

The walk back to the motel was bracing, a wind had picked up during the evening and Sam could feel a bite in the stiff breeze. His warm fuzzy brain turned hard against the cold and little stabbing needles of pain were starting to form behind his eyes. Huffing his breath, Sam sniffed as the neon sign of their current home came into view. He glanced across the parking lot and saw the Impala, a steadfast comforting presence in the nearly empty lot. Grabbing his room key, Sam started to brace himself for the verbal assault he was sure to come to end his evening when he stopped short at the sound of a raised voice on the other side.

“No Bobby I don’t know where he is. If I did I wouldn’t be calling now would I? Clearly the giant idiot needs a shorter leash to stay out of trouble—Goddammit I don’t care Bobby, he’s dangerous. After the whole pestilence thing, and now his stupid plan of being Lucifer’s prom date—he is an idiot because he’s not strong enough. God for all I know it’s just the demon blood talking and I don’t have a brother anymore”.

_You’re a monster Sam_

Sam’s heart stuttered in his chest, all pleasant thoughts from before were turning to ash as he listened to Dean.

“Maybe—maybe we can get Cass to just, put him under until this has blown over. Yeah like an extended nap, just something to keep him out of trouble. Once I handle this then I can deal with my junkie brother”.

_I would want to hunt you_

“He’s such a selfish little shit, Bobby maybe I was wrong, maybe we shouldn’t have started hunting together again. Yeah, yeah I know—I don’t need the lecture old man, remember you were the one who said he has a darkness in him”. The sharp burning pain escalated and Sam stumbled a few steps back at the ferocity of it. His eyes watered but no tears came, he could feel a pressure beginning to build and his skin felt like a thousand fire ants were crawling up his arms.

_Penance Samuel, you must pay your penance_

The door flew open before he could gather himself and he felt a yank on his jacket before he could raise his gaze to his brother’s face.

“Where the fuck have you been Sam? Huh? Where do you get off just running off like that”? Sam couldn’t even muster up the strength to fight back, his limbs felt heavy and his throat was closing around the words he was trying to spit out. “Nothing to say? Nothing at all? Why am I not surprised”? Vaguely Sam sensed that his brother was pacing in front of him, the anger rolling off of him in waves. Sam sat heavily on the corner of the bed, staring into his trembling hands. Dean stopped in front of him and stared down at his brother, anger giving away his disgust. “Tell it to me straight, did you go out for more demon blood? Huh? Were you just jonesing for a fix and couldn’t find any? Or did you find some, am I even talking to my brother right now”?

_You’re nothing to me_

“Ya know what? I don’t even care”. Dean started pacing again, this time grabbing a few weapons and his jacket. “I got a lead on your stupid case, might be a nest of vamps nabbing people. I’m going to go out and canvas. You just, just stay here.” Finally Sam felt his voice return, it cracked slightly as he tried to push it out.

“You shouldn’t go alone Dean—“

“I’d be a hell of a lot safer alone on this than with you”.

_I would want to hunt you_

Dean slammed the door behind him, Sam barely registering the noise over the buzzing in his ears. His breaths coming in short gasps as a tight coil wound around his heart. His vision blurred and a part of Sam’s brain vaguely supplied that he was having an anxiety attack. Fumbling with his jacket, Sam attempted to find his little miracles until he remembered he was still dressed like a fed. ‘_Shit.’_ His pills were still in the car, the one he left at the bar because he was too tipsy to drive home.

The needle like feeling had returned and was running up and down his arms while his head spun. Suddenly he felt too warm and cold at the same time and he half whined while trying to remove the suit jacket. His clothes felt too confining and he panicked when his tie didn’t come undone immediately. Pulling at his button up, he felt the fabric rip under his fingers and he took huge gasping breaths trying to slow his pounding heart. Running his fingers through his hair frantically he stood and started to pace.

_If I didn’t know you… I would wanna hunt you_

_We should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good_

_Blood sucking freak_

_You’re a monster_

_Boy with the demon blood_

_Abomination_

_Freak_

_Pay your penance Samuel_

Slowly a warming calm fire grew in his chest, releasing his heart form the icy needles of his panic. Words from a half forgotten memory danced at the edge of his mind and he felt himself nodding along with it.

“Yeah---yeah alright, penance.”


	5. A Half Baked Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.
> 
> Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All main characters and plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

* * *

“You’re different tonight Sam, fight with big bro”? Sam’s eyebrows drew together, his jaw clenching. He tried to turn on the bed away from the voice in his ear but found his body wouldn’t respond. “Yeah you really seemed to have done a number on yourself tonight, too much booze maybe”? He felt fingers whisper over his chest. Sam shivered at the cold contact and willed his eyes open to look at the nightmare next to him. Lucifer was currently staring at his hand as it trailed up and down Sam’s chest, a pensive look on his face.

“You know, I’ve been trying to figure something out about you. You carry all this guilt about something completely out of your control? Why do you humans do things like that”? Sam scoffed and turned his head away to start at the blank wall beside him.

“We carry the guilt of our mistakes Lucifer”.

“But see that’s the thing—“ Lucifer hefted himself up and straddled Sam’s waist, the movement startling him and Sam turned a sharp eye at the man above him. “The only real mistake you’ve made was loving your brother too much, am I right? I mean, sure there’s the whole, demon blood and letting little ‘ol me out of the cage but—“ Lucifer leaned forward, his hands braced on the pillow on either side of Sam’s head. He felt the rough stubble of Lucifer’s beard against his cheek as he blew a cold breath against his ear. “Were those really things you could control”? A cold tongue licked the shell of his ear and Sam felt a whole new kind of shiver run through his body.

“Wha-what are you doing”? He struggled to rock the man from his perch and attempted to sit up. A firm hand on his chest settled his movements.

“Relax buddy, we won’t have the second date until I take you to prom first.” He smiled down at Sam for a moment, his eyes flashing darkly. “Just letting you know that things could be so much better for you”.

* * *

The shrill sound of his phone jolted Sam into a sitting position and he winced slightly as the bandages on his arms pulled across his skin. Fumbling in the blankets, he pulled out the ringing phone just before it went to voicemail.

“Yeah what, I’m here”.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty, did I wake you”? Bobby’s cranky voice pulled the rest of his mind from the vestiges of sleep as he ran a hand over his eyes.

“No, no it’s fine. What’ve you found”? He cleared his throat and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He listened to paper’s being shuffled on the other end and Bobby’s gruff voice as it echoed in his hung over brain.

“I’ve been checking the details you and Dean sent, I’m not so sure this is a vampire nest like he wants to believe. It looks more like a Motus Comedo”. Sam sighed for a moment, he was so not functioning enough for this conversation.

“I’m sorry a what now”?

“Motus Comedo, Devourer of emotions. Basically an empathic little worm that eats emotions, and not in the fun way either”. Sam was booting up his laptop as Bobby spoke, trying to ignore the left open porn tab on his browser. “Originally European, but came over on the boats sometime after the Mayflower. Tricky little bastards, they burrow in a hosts body and plays them like a fiddle.” Sam sighed as he waited for the browser to load. ‘_Damn Dean and his stupid porn’._

“So what, we’re looking for a bunch of worms like, Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher style?”

“Nah that’d take too long, you need to find the Mother. Take her out and it’s like an empathic shockwave to the rest of them, they’d combust and any infected are none the wiser.”

“So how do we kill it, or even, know where to look”?

“Their nomadic so whatever you do, you better find her quick before the move on to some other town. As for killin’ it, I don’t know yet but I’ll find it.”

“Ok but Bobby, if they feed off of emotions then why kill their pray? And why take some hostages, that doesn’t make sense”?

“Calm down ya idjit I’m getting there, when their feeding it’s described that the host feels those emotions most strongly. Kinda like riding a high wave. But once their done, the host crashes and burns. Maybe the missing people are just—road snacks until their next destination”.

“So, they feed off of one emotion, then the host is left with just whatever is left over.”

“You got it”.

“So if they are feeding off of joy, then when there’s nothing left they get suicidal. Okay thanks Bobby”.

“No problem, and hey Sam? You and Dean doing ok”? Sam closed his eyes for a moment and chewed on his lower lip.

“Yeah Bobby, yeah Dean’s good, we’re uh— yeah. I gotta go, call us if you find anything else”. Not waiting for a reply Sam shut his phone and tossed it back towards the bed. He eyed the white bandages on his left wrist and gave a pained smile. ‘_Penance paid, time to work’._

* * *

Sam was just stepping out of the shower when he heard the motel door slam shut. He could hear Dean shuffle and curse for a moment before a loud squeak of the bed then silence. Sam reapplied some cream and bandages to his arms before shrugging on his flannel. Running his fingers through his messy damp hair he stared at his reflection for a moment. To the average eye he seemed tired, worn thin by daily stress. He thought it was ironic how human his face was given the dirty secret that hid in his blood. Steeling himself, Sam opened the bathroom door and strode purposefully towards the kitchenette table trying to avoid his brother as much as possible. Pocketing his cell and room key, he almost made it to the door before he heard his brother grunt and shift on the bed.

“Hey—where you headed so early”? Sam kinda half smiled and hung his head cursing his luck.

“To get my car and some breakfast, then I’m gonna canvas those names you gave me. See if anything turns up.” Dean grunted again and Sam took that as his queue to leave, a small tendril of anger wormed in his chest and he couldn’t help the passing shot as he shut the door, “yeah nice talking to you too”. Not waiting to see if a raging hung over hulk would appear, Sam quickened his pace back towards the bar. The overcast sky felt comforting to him in its own gloomy way and he let his mind wander over the case facts they knew so far.

_‘4 Suicides in the past week, 3 husbands and 1 wife. No sulfur, no EMT. Locked doors, different methods of suicide. Yesterday 5 people went missing all at once, 2 of them were cousins, 1 was an aunt, 1 an uncle, and the last was a father of the deceased. Oh and one of the suicides might have had a lady on the side. Good notes Winchester, well done.’_

Sam could feel his frustration mounting as he tried to piece together the bizarre circumstances. If something didn’t click soon they were going to lose this Motus Comedo before they even got on its trail. Fishing out his car keys, Sam was glad to see the old clunker in one piece and his jacket still in the backseat. Settling into the driver’s seat, Sam reached around to grab his jacket and his pills before hesitating.

_Penance Samuel_

He withdrew his hand after a moment and stared at the dashboard. Ignoring his instinct, Sam turned the car on and pulled out of the lot. He sighed heavily and ignored the rational part of his brain screaming at him to take his pills and continued down the road towards the next victim’s house. The radio was softly playing, some soft rock nonsense from the 90’s and he found it easy to coast along the two way road, barely any traffic this early in the morning. The few store fronts soon gave way to the small collection of homes and he slowed once he spotted the house he was looking for.

‘_Robinson’s wife deceased, older cousin missing’._ Mentally preparing himself, Sam hauled himself out of the car just as the front door opened, a little girl bounding down the steps towards a forgotten bicycle. She stopped a moment when she saw Sam approaching and dashed back inside. Sam waited a beat and sure enough, an older gentleman came to the door, eyes alight with suspicion.

“Can I help you Mr—“

“Sorry Agent Adler, yes I’m here about your wife’s suicide. I just have a few routine questions to ask you if you have a moment”. The man seemed to deflate a little as Sam spoke and that familiar wrench of guilt caught up with him again.

“Oh uh, of course. But I thought the police said there was no investigation given—well given”. Sam cut him off, trying to spare the man more pain.

“Yes I know what the police said, the FBI has reason to believe however there’s more to the story. This will just take 5 minutes I promise”. Mr. Robinson sighed and nodded, motioning Sam through the front door.

The first thing that greeted him was a short entryway just covered in family photos. Everywhere he looked there were smiling faces from barbeques, birthday parties, and vacations to the beach. He looked at each one for a moment, noting the smiles on each of their faces. He stooped a little to look at one in particular, he could see Mr. Robinson and his daughter were holding up a pair of fishes they had caught, a big toothy grin on the young girl’s face. Behind them on a dock was Mrs. Robinson and a man Sam couldn’t place.

“That’s from our camping trip this past summer, it was Tina’s first bite of the day. We were so proud of her”. Mr. Robinson choked a little and Sam straightened to give him a sympathetic look. Biting his lip and trying to seem nonchalant, Sam pointed at the picture again.

“And who’s that with your wife on the dock”? Mr. Robinson struggled to compose himself for a moment before squinting at the photo.

“Oh that’s her cousin Tyler. They were inseparable when they were kids. He took her—her death hard”. Mr. Robinson directed Sam into the living room where they sat for a few moments in silence, Sam allowing the grieving widower a moment to catch his breath. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees and tried convey the amount of sympathy he had for this poor soul.

“I understand this is very hard for you Mr. Robinson, and I certainly don’t want to take time away from your family. In your statement to the police, you said your wife had seemed fine all last week. No indication she was having any issues?” The man merely shook his head in silence, eyes still downcast towards his hands. “Has she ever suffered from a mental illness in the past? Maybe when she was younger like a teenager or a child”? He shook his head again and sighed, looking over at his daughter who was playing quietly on the other side of the room.

“No- nothing like that, she was a happy child, her mom used to tell stories about her to our daughter all the time. She was happy, at least—I thought she was.” Mr. Robinson stop speaking for a moment and looked back at his hands. The utter anguish on his face made Sam remember the days after Jessica’s death, the completely and utterly lost and alone feeling he had. Without meaning to, Sam reached out and squeezed Mr. Robinson’s hand a moment making the man look up startled.

“I’ve been there, maybe not quite the same situation, but I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know it’s difficult and I can’t imagine the amount of pain you are in, but if there is anything you can tell me. Anything at all, no matter how trivial, it could help. It could help give us answers to your wife’s death and her cousin’s whereabouts”. Mr. Robinson looked at Sam confused for a moment.

“You—you think they are related”? Sam gave the man a half shrug and a sad smile.

“It’s too much of a coincidence to not”. Mr. Robinson seemed to study him for a moment, his eyes searching Sam’s before nodding sadly and standing.

“I—I had heard once, god I can’t believe I’m saying this, I had heard once that when they were younger they—“ He stopped a moment and looked at his daughter. A sad hurt look in his eyes, before continuing. “They were close, my Mary and her cousin. Almost, too close if you understand what I’m saying”. Sam nodded and sat back in his seat.

“Do you know if it continued”? The defeated look in the man’s face was all the answer Sam needed and he gave the man another half-smile. “I am sorry to make you recount these details, thank you for your time Mr. Robinson.” Sam stood to go, trying to provide privacy the man so desperately seemed to crave. He followed Sam to the front door and held it open as he made his departure. However before he could step off the porch, Mr. Robinson called out to him.

“Oh wait a minute I do remember something, my wife—she was talking about a woman she met at the local bookstore. Some writer or something, she sounded nice and my wife invited her over for coffee. Uh-uh V-something, like Veronica?” Sam clenched his jaw and tried to hide his sudden flair of panic and annoyance.

“That’s very helpful Mr. Robinson thank you, by chance while the woman was here, did she tell you where she was staying”? The man nodded and smiled for a second.

“There’s only one place to stay in a town this size agent, she’s at the motel just down the road”.

“Great, thanks again”. Sam turned and struggled to keep his rage in check as he got behind the wheel of his car. Accelerating a little too quickly, Sam did a U-turn in the street and barreled back towards the motel, Dean’s number already ringing. When he heard a groggy “hello” Sam gripped the stirring wheel tightly.

“I’m headed back, we have to talk”.


	6. Power in Those Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.
> 
> Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently become obsessed with Supernatural (new to the fandom), but have been feeling that Sam's depression isn't touched on quite enough in the story. I bring my rendition to the struggles a lot of fellow humans suffer from. Just remember, you are never alone.
> 
> All characters and main plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

* * *

By the time Sam made it back to the motel, the gray overcast sky had opened up into a soft freezing drizzle. Turning the car into the near empty lot, Sam spotted Dean packing up the Impala as he parked. The simmering fire in is stomach sprang back to life as he slammed the car into park and launched himself from his seat. He stalked up to Dean as another duffle bag was thrown into the trunk. Sam grabbed his shoulder and spun Dean around, throwing off his brother’s balance.

“Wh- what the hell Sammy?”

“Don’t give me that. What the hell are you doing?” Dean shrugged out of his grip and ignored the question, walking over to the driver’s side door he yanked it open before giving Sam a pointed look.

“There’s nothing here Sam, we’ve wasted time on your little hunch. We’ve got better things to be worrying about.”

Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “Like what Dean?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about the pending apocalypse you started”. Icey daggers spiked into Sam’s chest and he stood for a moment, his face tight with anger and hurt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this, I called you because I got a lead. Will you jus-“

“No Sam-“ Dean slammed his car door again and walked back around the Impala until he was nose to nose with his brother. “- No I will not go back into the room and you know why? Because there’s nothing here. This is a waste of time and just a distraction. We have the rings, what we need to do, is get back to Bobby’s to come up with a better plan than your stupid idea from last week. Now, get. In. The. Fucking. Car”. Sam could see Dean’s pulse in his strained neck, his skin red from anger. His green eyes were alight with a raging fire of annoyance and—hate.

Sam felt like someone had physically punched him in the gut and he took a step back from his brother. The amount of loathing and seething anger in his brother’s eyes made his chest ache and his eyes burn. Quickly looking away, Sam paced in a small circle like a trapped wounded animal. He felt himself physically force his emotions out of his throat to allow himself to breath. The terrible itching of his skin came back with a vengeance and his fingers twitched from his self-control to just not scratch. The rain was falling harder now, he could feel droplets of water roll down his neck under his hair and down the collar of his shirt. The chilled shivers were coming stronger now and a roaring in his ears drowned out Dean’s voice

_Penance—Penance—Penance, Penance, Penance, PenancePenancePenancePenancePenance_

“SAMMY!” He stumbled from a sudden impact against his cheek, a fresh hot snap of sting. He blinked his eyes a few times before Dean came into focus. The rage and hatred was gone from his green eyes and for a moment, Sam thought he could see his brother inside.

“De-“ A quick flash of lightening overhead and a clap of thunder made them both jump. Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulders and rushed them back into the empty motel room just as another flash of lightening light up the sky. Sam stumbled into the dry room, his vision spinning as his knees gave out. He fell heavy against one of the beds, sliding his thighs against the foot of the bed he winced at the burning sensation from his cuts. The door slammed behind him and the duffle bags were once again deposited on the bed in front of him. It was quiet in the room for a few moments, Sam stared at the ugly blanket in front of him. He couldn’t hear Dean behind him and was half afraid to look and see the room empty. Finally he heard a soft “dammit” and felt warm hands on his shoulders.

“Come on Sam, we gotta get out of these wet clothes”. Dean tugged at the suit jacket and Sam let him pull it off willingly. The itching under his skin had returned and Sam felt his vision go a little sideways as he tried to control his breathing. ‘_He hates me’._

_I would hunt you_

_Pick a hemisphere and stay there_

_Boy with the demon blood_

_Freak_

_Abomination_

_Freak_

_Freak_

_Sam_

“SAM! Goddammit Sammy!” He blinked rapidly, the dark edges of his vision receding until he was staring directly at Dean’s face. His green eyes were wide and searching Sam’s face with worry. ‘_I should have taken my pills’._

“Sam, what is going on with you?” Sam could feel Dean’s warm hands through his damp shirt, and he could feel Dean slightly squeezing his muscles in a form of comfort. For a moment Sam started to relax, his mind still scattered to the wind as Dean’s hands slowly worked away the crawling feeling under his skin. For just a brief second, he almost leaned into his brother’s warm frame, searching for that comfort he used to feel around his older sibling.

_You’re nothing to me_

_Junkie brother_

_Safer alone than with you_

_Penance_

Instantly the small comfort he was feeling turned to lead in his stomach and he wretched himself from his brother’s grip. Unfortunately being in the position he was in, he has lost feeling in his limbs and went crashing back down to the floor. This time the sudden movement pulled at the sliced skin on his wrists and he couldn’t stop the shout of pain as they split open again. He rested his forehead against the floor trying to steady his breathing before he felt strong arms around his middle hauling him up. Sam tried to push Dean off and get away.

“Stop—Stop touching me!” Dean released him suddenly and Sam fell back against the bed, his solid weight bouncing on the worn springs of the mattress. He glared up at his brother who was staring at him with a cloudy expression. Dean was shaking his head, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Sam just scoffed, “don’t look at me like that. Ya know what, if you’re so eager to go, then just go”. Dean’s expression hardened and he clenched his fists.

“Why, so you can go get another fix? Really Sam, you really think I’m just gonna leave you to your own devices”? Dean gave a dark chuckle and started pacing the floor in front of the bed. “That’s just not gonna happen Sam, I can’t leave you and you know it. I can’t trust you”. Sam’s lungs were on fire, he clenched his fists in the blanket underneath him before turning his head away in anger. He could feel his rage just building under the surface like it has all summer, red hot and ready to rip into anything breakable around him. He turned back towards Dean, leaning up on his forearms; his mouth half open with a retort, when that anger—just washed away.

His breath came in short gasps as the energy he had pent up from his anger all but disappeared and Sam was left with, nothing. No that wasn’t true, he didn’t have nothing. The sudden oppressive weight of Dean’s words gripped his chest like a vice and all the air escaped his lungs in one exhale. Sam wanted to yell at Dean, wanted to tell him where he could take his opinions and shove it, but, nothing would come out. Instead Dean’s words circled round and round, pulling him under their poison like a riptide in the ocean. Sam couldn’t take it anymore, he felt like if he breathed too heavily he would crack, like if he closed his eyes for too long he’d be too tempted to leave them shut. He looked to Dean, his vision swimming as tears began to build up to his humiliation. He couldn’t see his brother’s face or his green eyes. All Sam could see were the words that were etched into his memory, into his very being.

_Freak_

_Abomination_

“Why don’t you just kill me then”? The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up, tears were falling freely now, though, he couldn’t feel them. “Just end it then Dean, nothing will solve all of your problems quite like my death. It’d set you free”. Sam turned away onto his side and couldn’t help but whisper in the dark, “set you free of the freak”. Sam lost himself in his anguish, a flood gate had opened that he had long suppressed with medication and denial and he couldn’t shut it again. The words and taunts echoed in his mind but instead of leaving a hollow loneliness inside, he could feel each syllable like a silver spike, impaling their poison into his heart. Oh how his heart hurt, it ached with every breath and the pain made his tears come faster. Sam wished for it to end, for something to end his pain. With a final ounce of strength Sam shouted in the quiet room, “JUST KILL ME!”

He wasn’t sure how long he laid on that bed, his heaving sobs stuttering out in the silence. His face still contorted from the pain in his chest. His damp clothes leaving him chilled and he shivered in the quiet. His bones ached and he refused to move, he didn’t want to see what was or possibly wasn’t behind him. So preoccupied within his mind, he jumped when he felt tentative warm hands on his back.

“Sammy?” That gentle voice caused another wave of pain to radiate from his heart and against his own volition he spoke.

“Why Dean—why do you hate me so much? Why are you keeping me here when you would be so better off if I was dead? Dad knew it, Pastor Jim knew it. Just-just please Dean—give me a penance to pay and I’ll do it, whatever you want, just make it stop.” The gentle touches on his back grew firmer as his spoke and without realizing it, Sam was between Dean’s legs on the bed, the older man had manhandled him gently until he was leaning against Dean’s chest; his arms firmly secured around his shoulders. Dean was slowly rocking him back and forth making soft shushing noises.

“Easy baby brother, easy—it’s ok, I gotcha”. Sam’s shivers intensified as a new wave of tears took over. He didn’t have the strength to fight his brother so he buried his head in the crook of an elbow supporting him and just cried.

* * *

I know this one is a little shorter, i will be adding an author's update notice next with some information on the end of this story.


	7. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dark thoughts get the better of him. His strength is failing as the forces of Lucifer start closing in. Dean is distant as ever as the due date of Sam's swan dive arrives. Who knew one last case together could be the thing that actually rips them a part for good.
> 
> Post Season 5 "99 Problems" trying to remain true to the season but slight AU in timeline between 99 problems and Swan Song. They've recovered the rings from Pestilence and Death. Some slight backstory AU.

* * *

So this ran away from me! Thank you all for the kudo's and comments i do really appreciate it. Originally i wrote this as a one shot but couldn't just leave it alone. That being said, the muses that be took this and ran with it without my consent :)

While writing this I've thought of two possible endings that I just love too much to not have. I will be uploading both and providing you with a "Pick your own ending" option. Below is a quick description of what to expect

Chapter: He Said He Would Win

\--- Explore what does happen when Sam says yes to Lucifer, and can't overpower him. The journey that was taken, and missed, that lead them to the white suit **warning extreme Angst**

Chapter: Together or Not At All

\--- A wrap up of the case and many feelings talks that just were never explored on the show. The final leg of their journey that gave Dean the strength he needed to finally trust his brother **Warning some angst but nothing like other one**

I should have those up by this weekend!


	8. He Said He Would Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER: Read the Chapter 7 Author's notes to make sense of these next two chapters.
> 
> Explore what does happen when Sam says yes to Lucifer, and can't overpower him. The journey that was taken, and missed, that lead them to the white suit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently become obsessed with Supernatural (new to the fandom), but have been feeling that Sam's depression isn't touched on quite enough in the story. I bring my rendition to the struggles a lot of fellow humans suffer from. Just remember, you are never alone.
> 
> All characters and main plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

* * *

At some point in his anguish Sam had fallen asleep. A soft satin sheet was under his fingers and he turned his head slightly to feel the cool fabric against his cheek. He sighed softly, a content feeling in his chest overpowering his hunter’s instincts and he relaxed further onto the bed.

“See how much better you feel when you just stop fighting”? His eyes bolted open as a soft male voice whispered in his ear, warm breath tickled across his cheek and Sam fought the urge to turn his head. “I never wanted you to feel this kind of pain Sam, this deep wrenching feeling of not belonging—of not feeling worthy of life.” Sam felt a cold finger on his chin and his face was turned towards the body lying next to him, “I just want you to be happy Sam”. Their mingling breath felt moist on Sam’s lips and for a moment he thought the devil was going to lean forward, he wasn’t sure if he cared if the man did. Instead Lucifer ran a hand through Sam’s hair and leaned back.

“I know life hasn’t been cupcakes and rainbows for you, but am I really to blame? I’ve been in a cage Sam. I haven’t done or planned anything. Just existed, just like you. And just like you, I was forced into some scheme by someone who thought they knew better than me. Who thought that just because I was who I was, I could be controlled, forced into something that I didn’t want.” Lucifer’s eyes flashed red for a moment before he calmed himself down and kept running his fingers through Sam’s hair. A part of Sam was confused and concerned that he hadn’t made the man stop touching him. Why hadn’t he leapt from the bed like he had down countless of times before? He didn’t want to examine the warmth that was growing in his chest so slowly from the small gesture of comfort this angel was providing.

“I learned just like you did Sam, that as much as we want to do good, as much as we show the love we have for the world around us, sometimes we just aren’t good enough. That no matter what we do, we will always be the freak in the family. The abomination to be feared in the world. I didn’t want that lesson for you, I didn’t want you to see—“ Lucifer lowered his hand until it rested on Sam’s thigh, just over his scarred skin under the light sheet, “—or feel the cruelty of my father’s creations”.

Sam’s voice choked in his throat at the tender look Lucifer gave him and he had to pull away, had to get away from the soft voice and offered comfort. He rolled out of the bed, taking in the room around him. It didn’t look like any of the motel rooms he’d ever visited. The carpet beneath his feet was soft, a deep crimson color that contrasted greatly with the deep navy walls. All sam could see was the bed as far as furniture was concerned and there was no door. He stayed where he stood, one hand gripping his wrist tightly, trying to exacerbate the pain from his cuts to force himself to wake up. Lucifer’s cold fingers gently rested on his hip behind him, causing Sam to pause.

“You don’t have to be in pain Sam, you’ve carried enough for this world and it doesn’t. Even. Care. You’ve done more for this blue marble than most men and you found your peace once. You found happiness and you were so close to having it, until it was ripped from you. Your dreams were tattered and no one, not even Dean, stopped to help you mend what was shattered.” Sam could feel his chest constrict and allowed himself to be turned around and pulled back down onto the bed. Cold limbs encircled around him and Sam found himself nestled against Lucifer’s chest.

“I know it hurts, I know you don’t want to think about it and I don’t blame you. Thinking that your brother, your only family, would drag you back into a life you never wanted and give no regard to you. Would force you to do things you never wanted with guilt and false promises. I know that pain Sam, I know what it’s like to have your family turn on you. You are not alone, and if you’ll let me you’ll never be alone again. I can keep you safe Sam, I can keep you happy.” Sam melted against the embrace, his eyes wet and his body shivering. It was almost too much for him to bare, someone offering him comfort. Someone holding him gently and shushing away the dark thoughts that were inside. “You’re not a freak Sam, or an abomination. You’re a human, a child of Adam and Eve, a soul with a destiny forced upon it that it never wanted nor deserved. You don’t deserve this pain Sam. Let me take it for you.” Sam cried openly at that, wrecked quiet sobs as his heart thrummed in his chest. Lucifer carded his fingers through Sam’s hair again, making soft shushing noises and Sam cried away the deep seeded pain and sadness from his soul. Between sobs, Sam had reached forward and grabbed onto the other man, holding him close while balling his hands in the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’m so tired.”

“I know Sam, I know. I’m sorry for the pain, I’m sorry for putting this on you. You needed to see”. Sam looked up at Lucifer’s face for a moment before nodding.

“The Motus Comedo-- that was you wasn’t it?” Sam didn’t really need the confirmation. He knew it was but it felt good to say it out loud.

“I needed you to see, needed you to hear the truth. You’ve been lied to so many times in your life Sammy, you deserved to hear some truth no matter how painful”. Sam took a shuddering breath before letting it out in a quiet sigh. He shook his head, for his benefit mostly, unsure if he was actually surprised or not. “I would never, and have never lied to you Sam. We’ve had too many lies spewed at us both for too long.” Sam looked up into Lucifer’s eyes again, he could see the plain honesty etched into his face and Sam could feel a subtle shift in his consciousness.

“You’re going to destroy the world, Dean told me. I can’t—I can’t just—“ Lucifer shook his head sadly, cupping Sam’s cheek.

“You’re brother saw a future the Angel’s wanted him to see, he saw only what was shown to him and nothing more. The future is never written in stone. Every choice, every action, can change what we want.” Sam nodded absently then chewed on his lip.

“He won’t understand.”

“It’s not up to him to understand”.

“He’s still my brother”.

“Is he though”?

A silence fell over the room, then Dean’s voice whispered in the empty space around them.

_If I didn’t know you—I would wanna hunt you. And so would other hunters_

_We should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good_

_You’re a monster Sam—a vampire_

_Bloodsucking freak_

_You’ve let me down in more ways than I can count_

_I don’t believe in you_

_Freak_

_Abomination_

Sam closed his eyes in pain and turned back into the solid chest next to him.

“Families break Sam, it’s in their nature. He may have been you’re brother once, but when you grew up—when you became something more than he was—he has tried everything in his power to change you back. When he sold his soul to bring you back from the dead, he didn’t do it for you.” Sam’s breath had slowed as Lucifer spoke, he remembered that day. Waking up alone in a rundown shack, a fleeting feeling of peace emptying from his body. He was confused, and scared—the Dean showed up and he was over joyed. He thought he had been saved. Then when he learned about the deal, the crushing guilt he felt, the guilt of forcing his brother into doing something so against his nature just because he was too weak to kill a human. Then there was the anger he felt as to how Dean acted that year. The risks he took putting himself and Sam in danger. It was like Dean regretted his choice and was trying to leave Sam alone sooner rather than later, forcing him into the loneliness that Dean himself couldn’t handle.

Then he thought about the months after Dean’s death, the lengths he went to, to free his brother. He didn’t care if Dean came back to him, he wanted his brother free of hell. Someplace safe like he deserved after sacrificing himself for Sam. Then the accusations, the anger, the always constant reminder of how he failed—failed at everything. Lucifer’s fingers tugged lightly at Sam’s hair causing him to look up into the archangel’s eyes and Sam saw, finally saw. The understanding and ancient loneliness of the celestial being. Lucifer wasn’t evil, at least not to his core. He was lonely, he was hurt. Sam could see inside the man the same shame and longing for peace that resided in his own soul. A final puzzle piece in place, a small nod in understanding and a brief swell of longing overcame his mind and Sam licked his lips before speaking, his voice cracking softly.

“Wh—what do I have to do”. Lucifer did not smile in triumph, he did not gloat or taunt. He merely rested his lips against Sam’s forehead in a gentle kiss before the scene around him started to shift to darkness. Lucifer’s voice carried softly in his mind as Sam felt himself slowly begin to wake.

_Find me_

* * *

When Sam did finally wake, he was laying on his side on the motel bed, half turned towards the front door. He could feel his boots were removed and his flannel was next to his head. He looked at his pale arms and saw one of the bandages were partly removed and he closed his eyes in dread. He sat up slowly and took in the room around him. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom behind him, the clock next to the bed still flashing midnight but the sky outside was dark. He must have been laying there for at least an hour, the storm long gone. Sam’s eyes skimmed over the small features around the room, his mind replaying the dream—or visitation—he just had. The duffels are on the floor now, some of Dean’s clothes spilling out. His own duffel is across the room, almost like it was thrown in anger. One of the motel chairs is tipped over and there’s an empty whiskey bottle on its side on the table itself.

Sam looks back at the closed bathroom door, the florescent light the only glow in the dark room. He can almost see Dean inside, leaning in the shower, his head down under the warm spray. He would be hiding tears in the water, hiding whatever feelings he was trying to push down. Sam knew his brother would finish soon, and come out. Knew that he would ignore the elephant in the room, pack his bag and either ask Sam if he was coming; or just head to the Impala without a word, expecting Sam to just follow. Sam looked back at his duffel, his entire life in one little bag, it looked so casual, just rolled slightly on its side on the floor. On its own, a trivial matter, a bag was just a bag after all. But inside—inside Sam felt the heartache from the ghost memory of the action, how Dean probably threw it in anger or frustration. How he had probably stared at Sam’s prone form for a few minutes before running his hands through his short hair in anger, then grabbing his bag—the only part of Sam that was safe to touch at the moment—and threw it away.

Sam stood slowly, leaving his damp flannel on the bed, and grabbed his bag. Pulling out a dry shirt he shrugged it on followed by his jacket. He removed his laptop and his journal and left them on the table. He also pulled out a few of his weapons that he kept on his person, only keeping his gun. He stared at a moment at his knife. The single item that helped him pay his penance time and time again. He turned and dropped it into the waste basket under the table, its cold silver dully shined back at him in a silent goodbye. Sam turned and saw Dean’s jacket thrown across the kitchenette counter. Without really thinking about it, he rifled through the pockets before pulling out the 4 rings. Their cold metal burned slightly to the touch and Sam pocketed them before he could think too long on his actions. He paused when he felt the familiar leather cord in his pocket. Its worn edges rough against the pad of his fingers.

He slowly pulled out the small amulet, the one given to his brother so many years ago during one of the few Christmas’s Sam cared to remember. He ran his thumb over the gold metal and felt—nothing—his heart was numb and his eyes were dry. He thought he should be concerned by this but couldn’t find the spark that should shine when he thought about his brother. He couldn’t find the love and trust he once had for the man that he had known all his life. Dropping the amulet on the table, Sam grabbed the complementary motel pad of paper and pen before writing a quick note.

Shouldering his bag, Sam slowly walked to the door. The shower never turning off, faintly he could hear Dean singing some ACDC song. He looked back over the room, a small pang of fondness and sadness intermingled before he quietly closed the door.

* * *

_Five years later_

Lucifer knew Dean Winchester was close, he had been feeling the older brother stalk him for months now and honestly it was beginning to grate on his nerves. He wandered the quiet garden behind the hospital. The roses were in bloom but wilted in his cold presence, he smiled softly at their beauty and touched the petals softly. Their velvety smoothness reminding him of another soft velvet and he felt his body shiver slightly at the thought. The sound of heavy footprints behind him made him turn his head ever so slightly, the brief smile disappearing from his face. He put his hands in his pockets and turned around, a cold expression on his face.

“Hello Dean”.

Dean didn’t even bother to greet him, colt raised, he continued to stalk towards him.

“Didn’t we already have that song and dance? The colt can’t kill me Dean.” Dean still clicks the hammer back before giving him a smile.

“Maybe before, but I’ve learned some new tricks. I told you I was going to kill you, you sonofabitch.” Lucifer shakes his head and looks at his shoes.

“You’ve told so many people that Dean, now look at you. Everyone is gone or you’ve killed them. You really were Alastair’s prized pupil. Sam was right about one thing.” Dean lowered the colt for a fraction of a second before steeling himself and raising it back up.

“I don’t care what Sam had to say, Sam’s dead because of you.” Lucifer just shook his head again.

“No Dean, Sam’s not dead, Sam’s safe—because of me. He left you, because of you.” Dean shook his head and Lucifer smiled, wide enough to make sure to show off the dimples on his cheeks—the ones Dean used to make fun of when he was younger. “You saw Sam—in the end—you saw what he was doing and chose to do nothing. You chose the great Winchester way and assumed Sam would do the same thing. You abandoned him where it was most needed—all I did was give him what he wanted.” Dean scoffed, his stance hard but his eyes wavered. “You can try to ignore it all you want, but we both know what Sam wrote to you that last night before he sought me out. We both know when he finally gave up because of you—because of your selfish, egotistical, masculine nonse—“ Dean abandoned the gun and rushed towards Lucifer, anger and hatred glowed brightly in his eyes as he attempted to punch the bastard’s smug face. Lucifer easily dodged and using his power flung the human back before pulling him forward and slamming him onto the ground in front of him. He could see the human struggle and Lucifer just smiled before placing the heel of his shoe on his neck.

“You left Sam alone—in the dark—where the monsters lurk. You Dean, you let him fall and I was the one to catch him. I told you once and I’ll be saying it again—whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here, so I win.” The neck under his foot crunches and Lucifer can physically feel the brother’s soul abandon the dead vessel before it flies up to heaven. A pang in his mind as him turning inward for a moment, Sam is watching, his soul dimming slightly in sadness before it turns away into the cold comfort of Lucifer’s grace. ‘_He’s in heaven, he’s with Mom and Dad, maybe he’ll be happy now’._ Internally Lucifer caresses the soul which quivers in pleasure at the touch. The vague déjà vu feeling overcomes him. He turns, partly shocked that he’d forgotten this part.

“Oh. Hello Dean”.

* * *

In a quiet garden, far from remaining civilization, there laid a body. A body of a hero who never wanted to be a hero. Of a man who tried everything in his power to save his brother—and failed. When his body is found, no one is really mourning the loss, too many deaths occurred for there to be much sympathy left in the world. The scavengers are thorough, taking what’s necessary to survive. The old fashioned gun, left alone as a useless relic and the probably reason this man had died. A young girl is given the job of cleaning out the worn wallet, looking for any information that could be useful. Inside she finds an old piece of paper, one that’s be worn rough by fingers—creases so frail from being opened and folded multiple times. She carefully unfolds it and stares at the faded pen marks before tossing it aside. The wind catches the paper and it flies off in to the distance, the last remaining memory of Sam and Dean Winchester.

_Dean-_

_There’s not much to say, I’m sorry. Just let me go._

_You’ll always be my brother_

_ -Sam_


	9. Together or Not At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER
> 
> Read Chapter 7 author's notes to make sense of these last two chapters:
> 
> A wrap up of the case and many feelings talks that just were never explored on the show. The final leg of their journey that gave Dean the strength he needed to finally trust his brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently become obsessed with Supernatural (new to the fandom), but have been feeling that Sam's depression isn't touched on quite enough in the story. I bring my rendition to the struggles a lot of fellow humans suffer from. Just remember, you are never alone.
> 
> All characters and main plotline belong to the creators of Supernatural.

* * *

At some point in his anguish Sam had fallen asleep. He could feel rough sand under his fingers, and he flexed his hands burying them in the cool ground. The sound of soft waves lulled his fractured mind and he could feel a soft cool breeze tickle his hair across his forehead. He breathed in the salty air and exhaled slowly before opening his eyes. Sam stared at the gray canvas above him, he couldn’t see any clouds and the sky was bright but there was no sun. It was just an expansive emptiness awash in gray light. He sat up slowly and stared at the dark water a few feet from him. The foamy waves reaching for him with every swell but falling back just short of his toes. Pulling his knees up, Sam rested his elbows on his legs and blinked slowly for a few minutes.

“You know, I never want to do what I do”. The presence behind him wasn’t startling, he sat calmly, like he already knew she was there before making her presence known. Quietly, the presence stepped next to him and sat in the damp sand by his side, mimicking his posture. Sam turned his head slightly to study Victoria’s profile. Her face look serene in the pale light, but her eyes glowed brightly with a deep purple light. He could vaguely see tear tracks left on her skin though her eyes were dry. “You hunters, your assumptions about my kind are rather unflattering to say the least. We never **want** to do any harm. It’s just in our nature”. She looked at him, a sad smile graced her face and Sam was almost tempted to push back the loose strand of hair that fell over her shoulder.

“So then why, why do you feed off of humans?” He said instead, his own curiosity getting the better of him. He studied her as she studied him, two breathing souls in a gray and dead world. Victoria looked away first before giving a big sigh.

“We don’t feed, we reveal. Pain, sadness, anger—it calls to us like a siren’s song. We attempt to fix what is broken beyond a human’s spirit. Back in the day—and I mean—way back, “she gave a watery chuckle before stretching her legs out, “—we were worshipped once. We were little spirits that kept the dark emotions away. But as all things do, that changed. The world got bigger, others discovered our little world and our humans—our people, were changed.” She folded her hands in her lap over her legs, her thumbs sliding against one another slowly and Sam stared at their soft movements. Peeking out from under a sleeve he could see white scars leading from her wrist, upward until they disappeared under the fabric. Sam looked back up to her face to see her eye’s had dimmed considerably as she stared at his face.

“We weren’t meant for the expanding world, we weren’t meant for the new cruelties that were unleashed when demon’s and vampires and angels—when all of them—came to our little world. We couldn’t cope, instead of turning the dark emotions away, we magnified them. We couldn’t figure out why, we couldn’t see that what our powers used to bring—had changed along with the world. Eventually our small world died, dwindled into nothing, and we were left alone. So alone, that we gave into our own dark emotions—the first of us, my father—he was the first to, to end it. With his death—“ Sam could see she was struggling, she swallowed several times and clenched her hands tightly.

“When he died, our hope of this world went with him, we fell, and with our fall—the first human suicides started. We tried to fix what he did but, we only make it worse now, cursed by my father’s darkness.” She looked back into Sam’s eyes, searching his face for understanding. “I never meant to harm Sam, I’m trying to right what was wronged. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes the humans I try to save do come through to the other side and, and it’s better. But sometimes—“ She raised her hands in hopelessness before falling silent again.

Sam watched her for another moment or two before tentatively reaching out and placing his hand on her shoulder. She seemed to stiffen at the contact for a moment before relaxing. She lowered her head and her hair had fallen forward to cover her face. He ran his thumb over her shoulder in a meager attempt at comfort.

“I—I am not gonna lie, I’m not sure how or what you are doing helps people, I mean, if you’ve been working your magic on me then it certainly hasn’t done anything to help—“ Victoria looked up at him horrified for a moment before shaking her head.

“No Sam! No—I didn’t do anything to you, I—I tried to help your brother”. Sam stiffened and retracted his hand and he saw her flinch at the movement.

“What do you mean you tried to help my brother?” She nibbled on her lip for a moment before shifting to face him fully.

“He carried so much anger, it was a beacon to anyone who wanted to see it. His anger and pain was clouding the world around him, keeping him blind to what really mattered, to what really needed to be done. I tried, I tried to explode his anger. To drain him of it so he could clear his mind and see—“ A dull ache had formed in his chest as he watched Victoria’s face.

“See what exactly?”

“See you. See you for what you are, not a freak or abomination, but as his brother. A brother that does have the strength to do what needs to be done.” His throat tightened at her statement and he had to turn to look back at the lazy waves. They sat quietly for a few minutes, the atmosphere calming his turbulent feelings.

“Did it work?” He asked suddenly, fear clenching his heart.

“I can only get him part of the way Sam, it’s up to his family to get him to see the rest. I merely—I merely removed the barrier as it were.” Sam nodded, he knew he should be angry. Angry that this creature had infiltrated his brother’s mind, angry that he couldn’t see it sooner to do something to save him.

“Why didn’t you do it to me? Victoria—why didn’t you try to fix me”? He refused to look at her, even when her slender cold fingers grabbed his own hands.

“You’re not mine to save Sam. You know who is”. He didn’t really notice when she vanished, just like he hadn’t noticed when she arrived. Like it was just a part of him that he knew always existed, and maybe she did, in some small way. In that brief moment of clarity he looked back at his hands, at his own wrists that were covered in bandages and scars, and blinked.

“You—you were—you are—with me all the time aren’t you?” The breeze picked up for a moment, brushing his hair again and he felt a calm response in its salty taste. _Yes. _Sam merely nodded to himself in understanding. Leaning back again, he rested his hands behind his head, his legs stretched out yet again and he closed his eyes listening to the gentle waves. Before long he felt his consciousness follow the waves out into the dark ocean, their steady rhythm pulling him further and further from the beach. Faintly the smell of a motel room started to replace the salty air, the feel of a scratchy bed comforter under his skin, and the sound of his brother whispering words in his ears.

* * *

“Sammy, come on Sammy. It’s time to get up okay? It’s—it’s time to get up. Come on baby brother can you hear me?” He could feel the choppy motion of his brother rocking him back and forth and Sam blinked his eyes open, a dry crusty feeling of too many tears made his face itch and he shifted in his brother’s grasp. The fingers around his biceps squeezed momentarily before he was half turned to stare up at his brother’s face. “Sammy, Sammy you with me?”

“Ye-Yeah, Dean, I’m here”. His voice cracked from the crying and Sam had to clear his throat before attempting to sit up. Dean held him firm however and pulled him back down to his chest.

“Jesus Sammy, you scared the living shit out of me.” Sam melted slightly at his brother’s warm embrace and allowed himself a moment to enjoy it before pulling away. He didn’t miss the way Dean reluctantly released his grip and Sam gave him a weak smile. Dean’s face looked haggard as he mapped Sam’s face. The worry and fear was clear in his eyes and it was such a welcome change from the last few days that Sam could feel fresh tears threaten to fall. “Sammy—baby brother—what’s going on. Why—why would you think I would want to kill you, and for that matter what’s up with these—“ Dean reached down slowly and pulled Sam’s wrists between then. Turning them upward, Sam could see at some point his damp shirt was removed, his arms bare for his brother’s eyes. The bandages were also removed, angry red ugly cut marks marred his skin over lighter softer scars. Sam could feel some anxiety creep under his skin and he tried to pull his arms free from his brother’s grasp. When Dean refused to let go Sam looked up and saw tears falling from Dean’s eyes.

“Sammy, whatever this is, you hafta tell me. You have to let me in brother. Please.” Dean’s broken voice wrecked Sam’s heart and his tears fell freely again, but this time he didn’t feel the ugly pull of darkness in his mind. He stared at Dean, really stared at his brother and saw the sadness his in eyes. The fear, not fear of him, but fear for him. First the first time in a long time, well before Lucifer or Lillith; before their Dad dying, and even before Stanford, Sam saw his brother and knew he would understand.

“De—Dean I—I haven’t been well for a long time.” Dean gave him what he would call “Sam’s bitch face” but stayed silent. “It started when I was a teen. All that moving around, always being the freak. I—I wasn’t coping and it started at Pastor Jim’s. He told me that in order to feel clean, I had to pay a penance.” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked like he wanted to interrupt. At Sam’s imploring gaze however he kept his mouth shut, merely shifted on the bed to get more comfortable.

“At the time I didn’t understand, but when I look back on it, I think Dad gave him the same warning he gave you. Th-that if I couldn’t be saved—anyway, he showed me how I could pay penance for everything unclean about me. I tried praying, confession, fasting for weeks at a time—Pastor Jim says it wasn’t good enough until—until he scarred me for the first time” Sam had to stop as Dean bolted from the bed suddenly pacing around the room like a tiger in a cage. Sam watched him passively, his eyes watching Dean’s face. Finally his brother stopped moving and stood stock still for a few moments, breathing deeply. When he asked a simple question Sam couldn’t stop his head from hanging in shame.

“Where”?

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes”. Dean’s answer was short and clipped and Sam could tell he was holding onto his anger by the skin of his teeth. Slowly Sam rested his hands on his thighs and rubbed them lightly before meeting Dean’s gaze again, his eyes trying to convey what he was too cowardly to say. Dean watched his brother’s hands for a moment before flickering back up.

“Show me”. Sam’s breath hitched in his chest and he shook his head. Dean took two long strides and kneeled in front of his feet, placing his own warm palms over Sam’s on his legs. “Please”.

Sam nodded slowly and unbuttoned his jeans, waiting for Dean to scoot back, he stood and slowly lowered his pants, the rough denim catching on the bandages and pulling on the stiches underneath. He scarcely breathed as his pants fell to the floor and Dean could see the bandages, the edges of bloody marks had seeped through from their tussle earlier in the day. Carefully Dean pulled back a corner and lowered the cotton. Sam could feel every inhale and his chest burned with the pounding in his heart. As Dean removed the second bandage, Sam closed his eyes against the wave of tears and feelings of guilt and shame. Finally, finally after all these years his brother could see. His brother would see what he really was.

_Freak_

_Abomination_

The feel of feather light touches on his burning skin stuttered his thoughts to a grounding halt. He looked down and saw Dean was gently inspecting his shaming labels, his eyes full of unshed tears.

“Why would you do this to yourself Sammy, why?” Dean looked up at him with heartbreak on his face.

“It—it was my penance, my reminder of what I am. Th-they’ve been there for a while now, freak was first, my original sin that Pastor Jim said I needed to correct. Then—then Cas—“ Dean shook his head angrily before he stood and stomped to the duffel bags on the other bed. Sam felt his mind start to spiral as he sat heavily on the bed, _‘This is it, he’s seen it and he knows and now he’s going to leave. I’ll be alone, again.’_ His eyes grew heavy in grief and shame and he turned his head away, unable to watch as the last of his family walked out the door. They opened again in surprise however when he felt a cooling sensation on one of his thighs and he opened his eyes again in surprise. Dean was kneeling in front of him again, gently rubbing an antiseptic cream onto his cuts. His brother didn’t meet his gaze for a few moments as he gently rubbed the cream on before applying new bandages, he paused before looking at the other mark.

“You’re not an abomination Sam, or a freak. You never were and you never will be. You are the son of Mary and John Winchester, my brother, a human, who was dealt a shitty ass hand in life. You—you have been dealt so many blows that anyone lesser would have crumbled under the weight and caved. But you—“ Dean looked up into Sam’s face, his eyes blazing with a fire as he spoke, “you have proven just how strong you are. You’ve taken licks and stood back up, you’ve dealt with human nature and supernatural hell and you always. Kept. Fighting.” He was applying the cream to his other leg now, the ache Sam didn’t realize he was feeling in his chest was slowly loosening as Dean spoke, his own eyes drying as a new feeling of warmth bloomed in his chest. After Dean applied the new bandage he grabbed Sam’s hands and rubbed his thumbs over his open palms.

“You have never, never been anything less than human. I know I’ve said things that were more than hurtful and I have no excuse for it. But Sammy—please—you are so much more than these things you think label you. You are my brother and that will never change, I will always love you and protect you. What Dad said, what Pastor Jim said, these things aren’t true; because I know you, I know your heart and your soul. You have no penance to pay, you’ve proven over and over again you are one of the good guys.” Sam could feel his energy draining away and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Deans. Their breath mingled together like a warm cloud, the smell of whiskey and mint toothpaste anchored Sam and he could feel his body tremble as feelings of ‘home’ rushed through him. He opened his eyes again and sat back up while Dean got off the floor to put away their medical supplies. Sam watched him move, to afraid to speak and shatter this dream like calmness that had settled in the motel room.

“Dean—why have you been so angry with me?” Nervously ran a clammy shiver down his spine as Dean hesitated for a moment before sitting in one of the ratty motel chairs a few feet from him, he was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees with his head behind his hands.

“I’ve been scared—of everything. I’ve been scared of losing you again, scared of what Lucifer is capable of. Scared of what Michael is capable of. I mean shit—according to some cosmos plan we’re supposed to be these Angel’s bitches and fight to the death. I can’t see a way out of this Sam, and I’m scared. I don’t want to put either of us through that, but I can’t see any other way out of this.

“De—“

“No Sammy, I’m not going to let you just, say yes and try to overpower the devil. It’s just—no—I’m not going to lose you like that.” Dean looked up at Sammy, eyes bright with unshed tears, pleading for his brother to understand. Sam stood slowly, grabbing his pants as he went and refastening them. He moved to the chair across from Dean and mimicked his sitting position.

“I know Dean—I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to think of what would happen if I were to fail but—I am strong in this. I know what I did was my fault, and you can’t deny that it is.” Sam put his hand on Dean’s knee to stop him from interrupting, “I know what you’re gonna say, that there were 65 other seals and that I had no way to know that what I was doing was going to bring the end but—it doesn’t lessen the fact that I was the one who did it”. Dean nodded his head in resignation and looked back at his knees, staring at Sam’s hand.

“I know I can beat him Dean. I know I can because I have to, and I’m the only one I can.” Dean sat quietly for a few minutes and Sam could feel his anxiety start to climb back up, could feel his heart start to freeze over but then Dean moved and reached into his pocket. Pulling out the 4 rings of the horsemen he stared at them for a moment before looking up into Sam’s eyes.

“I can’t make you do anything Sam, like I said, you’re strong but your also my little brother. Doing this—it goes against every fiber I got. I mean, truth is—you know watching out for you—it’s kinda been my job, ya know? But it’s more than that—it’s kinda who I am. But I know you, I know what you are capable of and you’re not a kid anymore Sam. I don’t know if we’ve got a snowball’s chance but—but I do know that if anybody can do it—it’s you.” Dean gently placed the rings in Sam’s hand and wrapped his fingers around to hold his fist.

Sam stared at their joined hands and felt his throat thicken with emotion. His mind was quiet save for one phrase:

_He trusts me._

“Thank you”.

“If this is what you want—is this really what you want?” Sam could feel the back door Dean was offering, a way to say no, to change his mind and find a new way to deal with his problem.

“I let him out—I got to put him back in”. Dean nodded his head and patted his hand before standing and calling out to Cas. The angel appeared in a blink and stared between Sam and Dean, his every presence look of confusion on his face.

“Cas—we’re gonna need a few demons.” Cas glanced back at Sam for a moment before tilting his head at Dean who merely nodded. When Cas was gone again Dean called Bobby and told him it was a go and to get ready. Once he hung up the phone he stared at the duffle bags on the bed for a moment before turning around to look at Sam.

During this whole arrangement Sam hadn’t moved, his hand still gripping the rings; their always cold metal a bracing reminder of what was about to happen. Dean nodded at him and Sam nodded back. Putting on a nonchalant smile, Dean put one of his hands in his pockets and reached out to Sam with the other.

“That’s it then, let’s go dance with the Devil”.


End file.
